At Your Service
by jadenanne7
Summary: Secret Santa prompt: Lizzie goes undercover as an escort and Red is her customer.
1. Chapter 1

**a/n: Hey guys! This is my submission for the Lizzington Secret Santa. I was totally pleased with my prompt. Escort service fics leave the door wide open for smut, angst, and plenty of drama! I hope you all enjoy this, and I hope my Secret Santa enjoys it as well. (We totally drew each other's names. How sweet is that?)**

 **I own nothing. Nada. Zip. Zippo. Zippo lighters. I might have wandered off track here….**

" _Hey! Is Agent Keen in today? I've been knocking for about five minutes and…"_

" _Yes, she's here."_

"Yes, I'm here," Elizabeth Keen whispered to herself as she studied her office door in irritation. "I'm just ignoring you." Shaking all thoughts of her unwelcome visitor out of her head, Liz turned her attention back to the profile she had created on The Good Samaritan. The profile that was obviously very, very wrong.

Months had passed since the first victim turned up, beaten within an inch of his life and barely hanging on. Even with a phone call and something of a head start, help never seemed to arrive on time, and since every victim suffered from different injuries, there was no way to be prepared for what the paramedics would have to deal with once they reached the scene. It was always one big clusterfuck that ended with a dead body and Liz beating her head against the wall.

Sometimes she wondered if she should have finished her teaching degree instead of switching gears her sophomore year and going into psychology.

There were no dead bodies in grade school.

At least… not that she remembered.

"No discernable patterns. None whatsoever. But there _has_ to be…"

"Keen!"

Liz groaned as her door swung open and papers scattered across her desk.

"Ressler! What the hell?"

Donald Ressler moved to let the door slam behind him and bent to help straighten the scattered papers. "You wouldn't answer the door."

"So you pushed in?" Sighing in frustration, Liz pushed Ressler's hands away from her desk and finished straightening up on her own, strategically covering her profile on The Good Samaritan. Ressler had nothing to do with the case and that was the way it needed to stay. He wasn't a bad guy, but he grated on Liz's nerves like no other man she'd ever met.

And she wasn't shy about letting him know it.

"Have a seat," she offered through gritted teeth to an already-seated Ressler.

"Don't mind if I do," he grinned.

" _One, two, three, four…"_

"Bet you're wondering why I graced you with my presence today?"

" _Five, six, seven, eight…"_

"Can't say that I am," Liz shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest and grinning inwardly when Ressler blushed.

"I'm here to ask for a favor…"

"The answer is no."

"…on behalf of Harold Cooper."

" _Nine, ten… Breathe, Lizzie, breathe."_

Liz's arms fell from her chest to hang beside her chair. Assistant Director Harold Cooper wanted something from her. Wanted a favor from her…

Something about that statement didn't seem right.

"Harold Cooper wants a favor from me?"

Ressler nodded. "I told him he was barking up the wrong tree with this one, but he insisted that I at least ask." There was a twinkle in his eye that immediately raised Liz's hackles. What was he up to?

"Why do you assume that he was barking up the wrong tree?" Liz could hear the imperious air in her voice and couldn't bring herself to care. Who was Donald Ressler to tell Cooper anything about her?

Ressler propped his feet on Liz's desk, raising her blood pressure to dangerous new heights. "Well since subtlety doesn't seem to be your thing, I assumed undercover work would be way outside of your jurisdiction."

"Why would Harold Cooper want me to do undercover work?" Liz questioned, not fully able to process the request. "I'm a profiler…"

"We know that. But we needed a specific…look… for this job and as far as what we need, you're it."

Dozens of possibilities ran through Liz's mind, and none of them were good.

"And what kind of 'specific look' do I have?"

"Honestly? You're hot." Raking his eyes over Liz's body, Ressler grinned. "High-end escorts are usually 9s and 10s. I give you a solid 8.5…would be a 10, but I deducted for the attitude."

The insult went straight over Liz's head as she reeled over the implications. They wanted her to work undercover as a prostitute. A prostitute. It was like something out a of a lifetime movie. A BAD lifetime movie. The film played out in her head in black and white, with her as the star.

 _She sat on a large bed in the middle of a swanky room, grateful for the dim lighting that helped hide her shameful state of undress. Her fingers dug into the comforter as she heard the door open behind her. She was facing the wall, as requested. It scared her more than she cared to admit, fighting against the training that taught her to always face the door…_

 _Heavy footsteps on the carpet let her know that he was walking towards her… a dip in the bed twisted her stomach into knots and made her pulse race. She could feel his warmth behind her, close but not too close. Not touching. Not yet._

" _Kneel."_

 _A gruff voice hissed into her ear and she jumped. How had she allowed him to get so close? Now, more than ever, she needed her instincts to be sharp. She had to focus. Allowing herself a little shudder, she kneeled on the bed, spreading her legs slightly, just like the girls had taught her…those poor girls who endured this every day just to make ends meet._

 _How could they stand it?_

 _A searing heat engulfed her as kneeled down behind her, pulling her back into his chest and settling clothed thighs against her naked ones. It didn't feel right that he was fully clothed and she was exposed, shivering in a white cotton bra and panties._

 _That was also his request._

 _She didn't want to think about why._

 _Hands started to explore and she tensed, earning a painful squeeze of her thigh. Forcing herself to relax, she tried to ignore his nimble fingers and focus on something she could use. What was he wearing? She pressed herself closer to him and closed her eyes. Cold metal dug into her back and she panicked before realizing that it was only a belt buckle. She wiggled slightly and felt buttons brush against her skin…buttons attached to silky fabric, a stark contrast from the cotton of his dress shirt._

 _He was wearing a vest._

 _She filed that away for later, intent on moving on to her next task._

 _She had to get him to talk._

 _She opened her mouth to speak, but no words escaped her lips… apparently she wasn't supposed to engage him in conversation, and she was reminded when his hands left her sides and grasped the insides of her thighs, rubbing his thumbs slowly over where she hadn't been touched in so long…_

 _She moaned._

 _She fucking moaned._

 _Apparently it was the right thing to do, no matter how embarrassing._

" _I knew you'd come around," the man chuckled, skimming his hands over the planes of her stomach. "They always do."_

 _She tried to convince herself that she wasn't 'coming around'. It didn't work._

" _You're new."_

 _It wasn't a question._

" _What in the world would make a woman of your age and your beauty turn to this life? I refuse to believe that some man hasn't at least tried to snatch you up."_

 _His thumb circled her belly button and she faltered. Cover story. She needed to remember her cover story._

" _Someone did." She grinned under the cover of darkness, pleased with the meek timbre of her voice. "He also let me down. He left me with no money, nowhere to live, and nothing to fall back on. I dropped out of college to support him while he finished law school. I should have known better."_

" _Oh my," the man purred, allowing his hands to travel up and cup her breasts. "What a sad story." He squeezed her breasts firmly then ran one hand up to her collarbone before grazing his fingers over her throat. "But I know an even sadder one." The hand caressing her throat suddenly gripped it tightly, drawing a gasp. "How about an undercover FBI agent that gets in way over her head and ends up on the wrong side of a knife? How about that?"_

 _Fuck._

 _Panicking, she tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but he just squeezed tighter, effectively cutting off her air supply._

" _Did you think I wouldn't know? Did the FBI honestly think they could slide a rookie agent in under my nose and I wouldn't smell the bullshit?"_

 _She tried to shake her head, to deny everything, but his grip was too tight. He wasn't going to give her the chance to get out of this…_

" _You know I don't know if I should be amused that you tried to get one over on me or pissed that you thought you'd actually get away with it." He secured an arm around her waist and dragged her back effortlessly across the bed, as if her legs weren't flailing and her torso wasn't twisting in agony. "I think I'm going to go with pissed."_

 _Tears pricked her eyes as she felt him dig in his pocket._

" _I want you to take back a message to your superiors, Sweetheart," he growled, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Nice try."_

 _There was a sharp pressure across her throat and the black and white scene was suddenly flooded with red._

 _All she saw was blood._

 _All there was was blood…_

"KEEN!"

"Yes?!" Liz snapped to reality to the sound of Ressler's voice. "I'm listening."

Ressler looked doubtful. "What I said was, are you in or out?"

" _Out. Out. Out. Oh my God. Out."_

"In."

Once again, Liz's mouth took over before her brain could even try to stop it.

Ressler smiled and Liz felt sick to her stomach. "Excellent. Now let me fill you in a little on the details. Of course there will be an official brief later with Cooper, but I thought I ought to give you a bit of a head's up."

"How sweet." Injecting sarcasm to cover the panic, Liz tried her best to look like she wasn't terrified.

"I know. Anyway, for the past year, Agent Cooper has been running a secret taskforce…"

"Give me a break. Everyone knows about the secret taskforce. What they don't know is what it's all about, and I'm surprised you've managed to keep it under your hat for this long."

The look on Ressler's face was truly camera worthy. It made Liz feel slightly better about her situation. She was probably worried over nothing anyway. One of the escorts probably has some tie to some obscure arms dealer and Liz would be tasked with getting information. No problem.

" _Wild imagination, Lizzie. Reign it in."_

"Well I was going to give you the option to back out, but screw that." Ressler stood up from his chair and put his hand on the door knob. "Our task force has been given the sole mission of tracking down one man and taking as many of his cronies as we can down with him."

Liz raised a brow, unimpressed. "And who might that be?"

"Raymond Reddington."


	2. Chapter 2

**a/n: Since I DO respond to gentle nudging, here is chapter 2 of my gift. Elena will probably always get her way.**

 **I still own nothing. Except now I do own a lease to a house and that is scary as hell. Note to all teenagers out there reading my M fics under the covers so their parents won't walk up behind them... Don't be in too big of a hurry to get out of the house. You'll miss your mommy, if nothing else.**

 **Plus, bills are a bitch.**

 **Please R &R! (I find it funny that for fanfiction writers, R&R means something completely different...)**

Raymond Reddington.

It was almost unreal to think that the FBI had any real clue as to what continent the Concierge of Crime was on, much less what escort service he used. Liz could almost be impressed with the ragtag task force, but every time Ressler opened his mouth she had to question her own judgement in following him to Cooper's office. His voiced buzzed around in her head like a gnat... a veritable hum of white noise peppered with actual words.

"...Brussels..."

Liz's ears pricked up instinctively. Something had gone down in Brussels some years back, but the details were confidential.

The good stuff usually was.

"Brussels?" she inquired, shamelessly interrupting the tiring backstory of how the task force was formed. "What happened in Brussels?"

"I tried to kill him, Keen."

As if she should have already known that.

"And you were obviously unsuccessful..."

Ressler's eyes narrowed as Liz zoned in on that particular button and pushed as hard as she could.

"Obviously."

"Which makes the fact that you're having to ask for help that much harder to digest."

"Agent Keen," Agent Cooper cut in, breaking up the dog fight before it could even begin. "Agent Ressler doesn't have the authority to ask for your help. I do. And I am."

Butterflies.

Liz actually felt butterflies at the request. She was already proud of her work at the FBI, of course, but this was something different. This was acknowledgement from one of the most respected men in her line of work. Taking this job and actually succeeding would mean great things for her. Power...respect...the right to brag for the rest of her life that a woman did what an entire group of men couldn't do...

"And of course I'll do it. I'm honored." Liz smiled brightly, so wrapped up in basking in the light of Harold Cooper that she completely forgot about the darkness that was Raymond Reddington.

"Wonderful! I hope you're ready to dive in headfirst, Agent Keen. You and Agent Ressler will be taking a field trip this afternoon. How do you feel about starting your new job tonight?"

It was amazing how quickly the light dimmed.

* * *

"This is illegal!"

Ressler rolled his eyes and Liz briefly imagined stabbing him with her car keys.

But only briefly.

"No shit, Keen. Your extensive knowledge of the law is blowing my mind, truly."

"Bite me, Ressler. You know what I mean."

Footsteps fell in the hallway outside of the large office they had been quickly ushered into, and Liz shut her mouth until they passed. Only when they were gone did she realize that she had been holding her breath.

"This is not what I signed on for!"

"I don't know what you expected when I said you'd be going undercover as an escort. Do I need to explain what that word means?" Ressler said, backing away from her to stick his head out the door and check for listeners. Satisfied that there were none, he eased the door shut. "An escort is a person that gets paid to spend time with another person. If that person goes a step further and engages in a sexual act with the person they're being paid to spend time with, that is called prostitution. And prostitution is wrong."

"One day I'd like to hear all about how you know so much about escort services," Liz smirked, "but if you hadn't noticed, this isn't an escort service. This is a _brothel_."

And a lucrative brothel at that. The building looked kind of like Liz's bank, and she was sure it was several stories higher. Pretty women in pantsuits handed out elevator passes to men from all walks of life, and they crossed the marble foyer with their heads held high, as if they were going up to close a multi-million dollar deal instead of going up to get serviced by a hooker.

"Oh no, Dear. This is much, much more."

A side door that Liz hadn't even noticed -much to her own dismay- stood halfway open, and a tall brunette leaned on the frame, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

"This is a business, and I'll thank you to remember that in your dealings with Mr. Reddington," the woman said, pushing herself off the frame. "It wouldn't do for people to think we can't be trusted. That being said, I want to go over the arrangement one more time. I give you access to Reddington, one of our most valued customers, and you leave me the fuck alone. Right?"

Ressler nodded, and it became perfectly clear to Liz why this woman was willing to turn in one of her biggest clients. It was that or jail. She probably should have chosen jail.

The woman gestured for Liz and Ressler to sit and they sat, almost mesmerized by the confidence this woman exuded. She seated herself behind the desk and folded her hands in front of her, reminding Liz of her middle school counselor.

Only this woman was much, much prettier.

And in all probability the madam of a whorehouse.

"My name is Eleanor. You don't need my last name, though I'm sure you think you already have it. I'll be your boss for all intents and purposes during this operation. Elizabeth, isn't it?"

"Liz. Call me Liz."

Ressler glared and Liz shrugged. She didn't like being called Elizabeth. Liz sounded more...professional.

"Liz..." Eleanor murmured, rolling the name around on her tongue. "No. Liz won't work. Liz sounds like you're an agent in the FBI, which is actually the _opposite_ of what we're going for. I think we need to go younger. Lighter. Holly Golightly. Holly! Your new name is Holly." Eleanor grinned, quite pleased with herself. Liz, on the other hand, wasn't pleased at all.

"Holly?! Reddington's never going to buy that as my real name!"

Eleanor rolled her eyes. "That's the point. Do you think any of my girls use their real names? No. It's for their own good. And this is for yours, Holly. Wear it until you love it, Sweetheart."

There was a sound that was somewhere between a chuckle and a snort.

Of course Ressler found this funny.

"Fine. I'll be Holly. I'll be whoever you want me to be...whoever gets me close to Reddington. But just tell me one thing. I live five minutes away from this place. How in the hell did I not know you were here?"

"It's called hiding in plain sight. Speaking of, we need to get your disguise in order." Eleanor smiled and stood from her chair. "It's time for you to meet Monica."


End file.
